


Stumbled Beginnings

by vix_spes



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Swan Lake Fusion, Awkwardness, Ballet, Beverly Katz is the Best, Flirting, Fluff, Friendship, Getting Together, Hallucinations, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Art, M/M, Matchmaking, Nightmares, Rivalry, Sabotage, Sexual Tension, Sibling Love, Sleepwalking Will Graham, Stalking, elements of Black Swan, hannigram AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-02-04 19:58:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18611473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: Swan Lake and the role of Prince Siegfried are things that lead danseur Will Graham is used to. But hallucinations, an all-male corps of swans and Hannibal Lecter as his Swan? Well, that's something entirely new.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rodabonor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rodabonor/gifts).



> In January, I went to see a performance of Matthew Bourne's all-male Swan Lake and fell in love. Around the same time, the lovely Bea drew [this](https://twitter.com/beatricenius/status/1085926222398398464) gorgeous art of Mads as the Swan and I knew that I had to write something for it. Thankfully, Bea was a sweetheart and let me write this, so this is for them ♥

The problem with making your debut as the Prince in one of the worlds’ most well-known and well-loved ballets so young was that you got to the point where you needed something new and different far quicker than normal.

So, it was the case with Will Graham.

He had made his debut as Prince Siegfried, the leading male from Swan Lake, at the age of twenty. In doing so, he had skipped eight years in the corps de ballet, become a little unpopular with some members in the company and gained notice by every single ballet critic and fan in the country. One of the most frequent comments had been whether his movie idol good looks would eclipse his dancing abilities. Another debate had been whether he would rise to the challenge or crumble under the pressure. Opinions had pretty much been divided down the middle prior to opening night.

When the reviews came in after opening night, all of those that had doubted him had been forced to eat their words. Every single review, from both critics and audience members alike, had raved about both Will and his Odette/Odile. Getting towards the end of her career, one reviewed stated that Bella Crawford ‘was a prima ballerina reborn in Will Graham’s arms’.

As the wife of the company director, Bella was under more scrutiny than anyone else for signs of favouritism, but she would be the first to admit that she was fast approaching the twilight of her career and that things weren’t as easy as they had once been. Her arabesque was getting harder to maintain and the prospect of Odile’s infamous thirty-two fouettés in act three filled her with dread. But Jack needed a safe pair of hands for his newest Siegfried and Bella was his first choice.

Will couldn’t have been more grateful. Bella made the whole experience far more pleasant. Where Jack shouted and railed, his stress levels ever rising, Bella was the epitome of elegance, constantly radiating calm confidence in everything. She had put Will at ease throughout the rehearsal process and, during their first performance, had even snuck them a surreptitious and illicit glass of champagne before they went on stage for act three. There had been comparisons to Fonteyn and Nureyev, with Bella becoming Will’s regular partner until she finally retired in her mid-forties, three years after their debut together. For that reason, as well as others, Swan Lake and Siegfried would always be special for Will.

The problem was, Will’s debut as Siegfried had been nine years ago. Since then, he had played every single major leading role for a man in the classical repertoire including Siegfried on practically every continent and in a number of different versions. He had done most of the contemporary rep that traditional companies did, had had ballets and roles created on him and he was bored.

He felt bad about that, but it was the honest truth. Jack Crawford – the director of the company – had been good to Will over the years. Yes, he had screamed and shouted, pushing Will to his limits and even to the edge a few times, but that was pretty standard practice amongst the industry. Yet, regardless of the fact that Jack had been good Will, had given him his first job in fact, it didn’t change the fact that Will was bored. He didn’t want to leave the company, but he needed a challenge, something to sink his teeth into.

And then, as if the Fates had decided to intervene, Will received a phone call from one Jimmy Price.

Will had heard of him, of course. Jimmy had danced with Jack’s company for a number of years but had left the summer before Will joined to form his own all-male company. It had been something of a scandal at the time, not least because his new company had been funded by one of the major donors of Jack’s company, one Mrs Komeda. What Will couldn’t quite believe was that Jimmy wanted to talk to him. Wanted him for his next production.

It was the kind of phone call that dreams were made of.

They were doing a revival of Jimmy’s infamous (and slightly controversial) production of Swan Lake with its corps of male swans. More than that, they wanted Will to play the Prince. The more Will listened, the more excited he got. It was the most excited that he had been about a project in a long time. Yes, it was playing Siegfried again, but this was going to be completely different. Jimmy was talking about making major revisions to the plot in act three and removing a subplot that he’d never been totally convinced by. In doing so, it also made the identity of The Stranger even more vague. Will barely waited until Jimmy had finished speaking before he was saying yes, blushing as Jimmy chuckled.

“Saying yes already? Don’t you want to know who your Swan/Stranger is going to be?”

“Oh, yeah. Um…” Will wracked his brain, trying to think of who Jimmy would have offered the role to. Who had he made the role of the Swan on back in the day? And then Will remembered that it had been created for Francis Dolarhyde, a powerful contemporary dancer who had tragically died in a house fire with his girlfriend not too many years after the production had premiered. He tuned back into the conversation just as Jimmy named his Swan.

“And we’ve managed to get Hannibal Lecter to play the Swan/Stranger.”

Will’s phone dropped from nerveless fingers and landed on the floor with a clatter. Hannibal Lecter. How had they managed to get him? How was Will supposed to dance with him? And then he remembered that Jimmy was still on the other end of the phone and hurried to pick it up.

“Will … Will? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Dropped my phone.”

“Okay. Well, look, I can’t tell you how happy I am to have to you onboard. You’re perfect for the Prince and I think you and Hannibal will be fantastic together. I’ll contact Jack to discuss releasing you from the company temporarily and then I’ll be in touch in a couple of days.”

Will was numb as he hung up. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to dance with Hannibal. It was more that Will didn’t feel like he could dance with Hannibal and not look like an idiot. Like many young dancers, Will had idolised Hannibal – although he’d never seen him perform live – and had also had something of a crush on the man. And now, Will was going to be partnering him. And not just that but fall in love and be seduced by him on stage.

It was definitely an inspired casting choice. Lecter may be old for a male dancer now – in his late thirties/early forties – but he was the perfect type of dancer to play the dual role of the Swan/the Stranger. He’d certainly had a completely different career trajectory to Will. While Will had undergone a classical ballet education and career, Lecter had studied classical ballet and then moved into the world of contemporary dance, specialising in the works of Martha Graham. Making himself a coffee, Will grabbed his laptop and retreated to the sofa, typing Hannibal Lecter into the search bar and selecting videos.

One thing that became immediately apparent was that it was going to be no hardship whatsoever being seduced by Hannibal. The man was utterly gorgeous; all ridiculous cheekbones, broad shoulders and veritable pelt of chest hair. The latter was perhaps not what you’d expect of a male swan – Will guessed that his own hairless chest was the more common aesthetic – but Will liked it. There was a leonine grace to his dancing, but an undeniable power and Will could see, without a shadow of a doubt, why Jimmy had cast him. Between the two of them, they’d definitely be good for the box office sales.

The only problem that Will could foresee? It had become very obvious, during the course of his search, that Will’s youthful crush on Hannibal Lecter could no longer be consigned to the past; it was very much still evident. How the hell was he supposed to dance with him, be seduced by him and keep it professional? Not react? Even now, Will’s cock was at full attention in his sweatpants and that was just from some bloody videos. How was he going to react to having the flesh and blood man in front of him, pressed up against him?

Maybe he could get it out of his system before rehearsals started. Sliding his hand into his sweatpants and wrapping it around his cock, Will bit his lip and pressed play one more time.

It was worth a try. Right?


	2. Act One

It didn’t matter that Will had been dancing almost since he was old enough to walk, he was still susceptible to nerves. Every artist was. It didn’t matter if they were at the top of their game, at the end of the day they were still human and thus subject to human emotions. Besides, a bit of nerves were good; they got the adrenaline flowing.

It was his first day of rehearsals for Jimmy Price’s Swan Lake and Will was currently stood outside the large warehouse that had been hired as the rehearsal venue trying to pluck up the courage to open the door. Will was berating himself for being ridiculous; he had guested with companies all over the world and he had never been this nervous. There was always a bit of trepidation; would you remember the right steps for the production you were doing, would you fall flat on your ass and make a fool of yourself in front of everyone. But, it wasn’t normally this bad.

Focusing on his breathing, Will tried to break it down as to why his nerves were off the charts. It wasn’t the steps. He knew that without a doubt. True to his word, Jimmy had spoken to Jack and arranged to release Will from the company temporarily. So, for the last few months, Will had been juggling rehearsals and performances with the company during the day and evenings, fitting in this new version of Swan Lake in whatever downtime he had. Jimmy had sent over the music as his version used the original score in a slightly different order, videos of the original production during both rehearsals and performance as well as the Benesh Movement Notation scores so that Will could get the choreography down. There would be some things that would change, some extra choreography to learn, but most of that could be done in the studio. The important thing was that Will knew pretty much what he was doing and – hopefully – didn’t make a fool of himself.

It wasn’t even all of the new people that he would be meeting that had Will apprehensive. He wasn’t the most sociable of people, but that was well-known and accepted by the other dancers in the company. It wasn’t that he disliked them or thought himself better than them, he just preferred his own company and that of his dogs. He was perfectly capable of being polite and conversing with his colleagues, but they all knew that when they went out to a bar, Will would join them once in a blue moon. Still, he had good relationships with most of the dancers. He was just closer to a select few. Or, at least, he had been.

In truth, Will taking this role couldn’t have come at a more fortuitous time. The last time that he had gone out with some of the other principals, he had ended up drinking a bit too much and kissed his partner, Alana. It hadn’t been the best idea that they had ever had, and they had both regretted it, meaning that, while they had carried on as the professionals that they were, things had been a little awkward in past weeks. Particularly as they were in the middle of a run of tutu ballets and having to fall in love onstage every night.

That only left one reason as to why Will was cowering outside the door; the prospect of dancing with Hannibal Lecter.

Contrary to his hopes, Will had not been able to get Hannibal Lecter out of his system. Far from it. Instead, he had descended into some kind of black hole. Not just watching as many videos of Hannibal dancing or reading as many interviews as possible, but masturbating over him, be it videos of him dancing or the fact that Hannibal had become the fantasy that Will wanked to. And then there were the increasingly vivid dreams Will had started having. Dreams where he was doing considerably more than just dancing with Hannibal.

He tried to justify it. There was more than an element of professional curiosity. He had never danced a pas de deux with a man before. Will had spent his entire dancing career partnering women and, essentially, playing the dominant role in the partnership. Yes, he had his share of show-off codas and variations, but a significant part of his job was to make his ballerina look good. That wasn't the case with this. In several sections of the ballet, it would be Will taking the traditionally feminine role. He told himself that he was watching those videos to see what kind of a partner Hannibal was. Surprise, surprise a really bloody good one; steady as a rock and considerate. In truth, Will spent just as much time admiring Hannibal's broad chest, the musculature of his arms and his surprisingly skinny legs.

Yes, it was safe to say that Will's crush on Hannibal Lecter was stronger than ever. Maybe even a bit of a competency kink.

And then it just went way beyond the realms of research. He was now more in the realms of perpetually horny teenage boy. It was as though his body had been rewired so that any time he saw Hannibal, he got hard. Fuck knows what was going to happen the first time that he and Hannibal held hands; Will would probably spontaneously combust. He'd almost definitely get an erection. Good job he'd packed the dancer’s belt that was just that bit on the small side.

Will was pulled out of his thoughts by a piercing wolf-whistle.

“Hey, hot stuff! You going in or just planning on blocking the door all day?”

Will turned to see a woman in close-fitting jeans, knee high boots and a burgundy leather jacket approaching, an overstuffed tote slung over one shoulder. There was an unrepentant grin curving her lips and an unmistakable look of mischief in her eyes as she pushed her aviators up to perch on her head.

“I mean, I'm not complaining about the view.” The woman tilted her head as though it would help her see Will's ass again. “It's a very nice view but still, it would help rehearsals if dancers could get in the building.”

“Do you always talk like that to people you've never met?”

“Pretty much. I mean, I can call you other things if you prefer. Studmuffin? Cher? Sassy little beignet?”

“Sassy little beignet?!” Will honestly couldn't decide if he was amused or offended.

“Well, you look like you're a cinnamon roll, but I've heard a couple of stories, so yeah… besides, you're from the South, aren't you?”

“Yes, but I'm also a human, not a pastry.”

“I see little difference.”

“Again, you talk to everyone like this when you first meet them?”

“Would it make you feel better if I said you're just special? Nah, I’m like this most of the time. I'm just getting into character early. It's my job to harass you for the next few months.” The woman held out her hand to shake, “Bev Katz. I'm going to be your girlfriend.”

Will froze momentarily before he clocked that she meant in the ballet; this was the dancer who had been cast as the Prince’s girlfriend. He chuckled awkwardly and shook her hand. “Will Graham, nice to meet you.”

“Trust me, I know who you are. Pleasure’s all mine. So, Will Graham, you gonna stand here all day or are you coming in? Kinda difficult for us to rehearse without our Prince.”

Will threw his shoulders back and adjusted the strap of his bag, pulling the door open and gesturing for Bev to precede him. “Lead the way.” 

(~*~)

Inside, the room was pretty busy with dancers dressed in a mishmash of clothes warming up. The room was clearly divided into those who knew each other and had worked with each other before, and those who didn't know anyone and looked slightly awkward and uncomfortable. Bev, it seemed, knew almost everyone in the room it seemed. People converged on her to say hello, exchange hugs and kisses and the obligatory bit of gossip. All the while, Will just stood there awkwardly, very aware of the curious glances angled his way and wishing that the earth would just open up and swallow him whole. And then, to his relief, two familiar faces walked into the room and spotted him, saving him.

Even now, ten years after he left the company, Jimmy Price was still instantly recognisable to Will, as was his scowling companion, Brian Zeller. Zeller had also danced for Jack's company and the two of them had been in a relationship for years, but he had left Jack to be Jimmy’s lead danseur. Both men had been first soloists, with Brian doing some solo roles, but those had been few and far between even before the company had hired Will. Thus, they had decided to create their own opportunities elsewhere. It had been Brian Zeller whom the original role of the Prince had been made on. In doing his research for the role, Will had discovered that apparently the working relationship between Zeller and Francis Dolarhyde had been so bad that the show had almost been written off as a disaster before it even premiered.

Will didn’t know Zeller well - at all, really - but just from the way that the guy was looking at him as they drew closer, Will had the feeling that it was going to be a bumpy ride. It had to be difficult for the guy; this was a role that he had originated, but it was being revamped, improved upon and he wasn’t going to get to dance it, he had to teach it instead. He certainly didn’t look thrilled at the prospect but maybe that was just his face. That, or he’d chewed on a wasp. Jimmy, on the other hand, was pure ebullience, giving Will a huge hug and exclaiming how delighted he was to see Will although his face fell quickly.

“I hate that this is the first thing I’m saying to you but I'm afraid we've got some bad news for you, Will.”

Will's heart stopped. This was it. They were going to tell him that they'd made a mistake, that he wasn't what they were looking for and they'd found another Prince.

“Will?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. You have some bad news?”

“Yes, I'm afraid that your Swan hasn't arrived. Hannibal has been performing in Lithuania and was supposed to fly in yesterday to start rehearsals. Unfortunately, there was a problem with his visa and he's still stuck there. We're hoping that they can sort it today and that he'll be able to join us tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Will felt a curious mix of relief and deflation. The former because they weren't going to sack him before his first rehearsal, and the latter because he'd psyched himself up for nothing. He was simply going to have to do the same thing tomorrow and hope that the potential mortification of getting an erection dancing with his partner simply didn't happen.

“I know it's not ideal, but we'll make do. The dancer who is understudying the Swan - Matthew Brown - is here and knows the role. What we'll do is start with all of the existing stuff and leave the new choreography for when Hannibal can be here. Now, where's… ah, Matthew! Matthew, this is Will Graham, our Prince. Will, here is your Swan for the day, Matthew.” 

Will wasn't sure what it was but, from the instant that he made eye contact with the guy and their hands touched, there was something that he found unsettling about Matthew Brown.

As quickly as he possibly could, he made his way back to the safety of Bev’s side to warm-up. He did his usual stretches as he listened to the conversations around him, conscious that there was one pair of eyes watching him from the other side of the room. Will relaxed automatically as daily class started, Zeller stood at the front calling out the combinations one after another. This was one thing that never changed. It didn’t matter where you were in the world, didn’t matter what company you were dancing with, class was always the same. You could always rely on it; let your body do the movements and your mind just drift. Will didn’t try to push himself to the front – only the worst kind of principals did that – and inside tucked himself in next to Bev, somewhere in the middle. Yet, even so, he couldn’t wholly relax as normal because he was very much aware of the eyes watching him from the other side of the room.

All too soon, class was over, and it was time for the rehearsal itself to start. Class had been interesting; while most people had ballet training, not everyone had focused upon it and it showed. As Jimmy had said, they were starting from the beginning and working on everything that was staying the same, that he wasn’t re-choreographing for this new production.

They started at the beginning and Will relished the differences between this production and those that he had done previously. Even so, it was nerve-wracking. You had fleeting moments of confidence as an artist, but they never happened in the first few minutes - maybe the first hour - of rehearsals. Not everything was flawless – far from it – but they kept going, just wanting to se what people knew. As they worked, he couldn’t help but notice that the guy playing the Private Secretary - was his name Anthony? – bore more than a startling resemblance to Will, just considerably more self-possessed. It was more than a little disconcerting and Will knew that it would take a little getting used to.

At this point in time, there was no Matthew. There was Will, the corps, his creepy double Anthony and the dancer playing his mother, the Queen, a dancer by the name of Bedelia du Maurier. Bedelia was definitely going to take some getting used to; the aloofness of an ice-queen didn’t seem to be limited to her stage persona. She barely acknowledged Will, instead choosing to focus completely on her role. Will attempted, out of politeness, but was summarily rebuffed and had to work really hard not to laugh as he caught Bev rolling her eyes in his peripheral vision.

It was fun getting to dance with Bev. She clearly hadn’t maybe had as much ballet training as Will, but she had had a considerable amount and was an excellent actress. Indeed, Will found it hard to keep a serious face when they interacted. All too quickly, they had passed the scene in the nightclub and Will had watched Bev, as his girlfriend, betray him.

This was it.

The moment when the swans appeared for the first time. Wreathed in darkness behind Will. This was the moment that Hannibal Lecter should have made his appearance.

Instead, it was Matthew Brown.

It wasn’t that Matthew was a bad dancer. Far from it. He was an excellent dancer and he was undoubtedly a handsome man. However, he was no Hannibal Lecter. There wasn’t that sensation of other-worldliness with him, this feeling that he _was_ the Swan. That he was capable of making Will’s Prince fall in love with him. Every single thing that he did, every moment, seemed designed to achieve his goals, not Will’s nor Jimmy’s as the choreographer. It was, however, awe-inspiring to watch the all-male corps dance together. Will had never seen anything like it.

And then he was there, amidst a multitude of swans.

There was something missing though. Matthew was excellent, doing every single move as he was expected to. Yet, there was something that wasn’t quite right. The music was faster than Will was used to, but it was more than that. Matthew seemed to take things almost double speed and, while they were moving together, they weren’t gelling perfectly. There was a sense of disconnect between them. It wasn’t completely synchronised.

The biggest thing was that Will simply didn’t feel comfortable.

There was always something. Matthew made a comment that wasn’t quite appropriate. His hands drifted lower than was appropriate. The points in their pas de deux where Will had to wrap himself around Matthew for the lifts brought Will out in a clammy sweat.

This really wasn’t what he had been envisioning. 

~*~

As Jimmy called an end to the end of the rehearsals and dismissed all of the dancers for the day, Will wiped the sweat from his face and started his cool-down stretches with no little relief. They had got most of the way through the show and it hadn’t gone badly considering it was the first rehearsal. All around him, dancers were pushing their bodies into various stretches and pulling on their outdoor clothes as they chatted about the day. Across the room, Will could see Matthew trying to make eye contact and studiously looked down, focusing on the strips of colour on his leg warmers and pulling at a few loose threads. He hoped Matthew took the hint because the last thing Will wanted was to spend more time with the guy. And then a balled-up t-shirt hit him in the face at the same time that Bev plopped down cross-legged in front of him.

“First day down and I think that calls for a drink. What do you say, my little pastry?”

Will snorted and tried to demur, but Bev was having none of it and in a split second, Will knew that a lot of time was going to be spent with him saying no to things and then doing them anyway because Bev wanted him to.

“I shouldn't … we're rehearsing early in the morning.”

“And? One drink. You've spent all day being pawed at by Brown, you deserve alcohol. Even better, I'm buying!”

“Fine. One.”

(~*~)

It wasn’t one, of course it wasn’t.

Will had just retaken his seat, setting the second round down on the table, when one of the spare chairs was kicked out and Zeller sat down, plonking down a couple of overflowing pint glasses and spitting out a couple of packets of chips.

“Jimmy’ll be along in a minute.” He side-eyed the full drink in front of Will, “I feel like I should be buying you that. It’s a fucking disaster. Lecter’s still stuck in sodding Lithuania; there was some problem with his visa or something. He definitely won’t be here tomorrow at any rate. He’s heading back to the embassy as soon as they open in the morning and hopefully, he’ll be her by the end of the work. I’m sorry, you’re stuck dancing with Brown in the meantime.”

“Be nice, Zee.” Jimmy’s reproach was soft as he took the remaining seat and drained part of his pint.

“He was being nice,” Bev piped up. “If I’d said it, I’d have called him the octopus. Or something more creative and less pleasant, I just need a bit of time.”

As Bev and Zeller debated names that best described Matthew, Will found Jimmy talking to him. “I’m really sorry about today, Will and this whole situation; I know it’s far from ideal. I’ve spoken to Matthew about his behaviour. Unfortunately, until Hannibal gets here, Matthew's the only one who knows the Swans choreography and the power has gone to his head. But, if it doesn’t get any better then talk to me and we’ll sort it out. I won't have dancers in my company behave like that. Fingers crossed, we get Hannibal’s visa issues sorted and he’ll be with us by the end of the week.”

Will nodded, not saying anything but privately hoping that Hannibal made it before the end of the week. Dancing with his crush was going to be nothing having dealt with Matthew Brown.

Besides, if Brown kept going as he had been, Will wasn’t going to be held responsible for his actions and a bump to his shoulder told him that Bev would be a willing accomplice.


	3. Act Two

Unfortunately for Will – and the rest of the company – Matthew didn’t get better and neither did Hannibal arrive. Each day brought a new message to say that the embassy were requiring more information before they were willing to grant his visa. Hannibal couldn’t be more apologetic, and it was clear that he was hugely frustrated, that the situation was out of his hands, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. Not when they had Matthew Brown to contend with.

After Jimmy had spoken with him about his inappropriate behaviour during the first rehearsal, Matthew had taken a subtler approach to making Will feel uncomfortable. His hands didn’t wander during rehearsals, yet even the most innocent touch made Will’s skin crawl. The worst thing was the way that he constantly seemed to be watching Will, no matter what else was going on; the staring never stopped.

Will took comfort in the fact that he was never left alone with Matthew; his friends made certain of that. Zeller jokingly called them Will’s harem; at least, Will thought he was joking. Bev, Margot Verger and Abigail Hobbs. There was a strange sexual tension between Bev and Margot, and Will couldn’t figure out if they’d had a thing before or if they were going to end up having one at some point during the production run. Abigail, on the other hand, was barely twenty-one and Swan Lake was her first professional job out of college. Between the three of them, they gave Will a buffer. In class, they sandwiched him in between them at the barre and then hid towards the back for centre work while Matthew positioned himself front and centre, posturing as much as possible and cosying up to the rehearsal pianist, Frederick Chilton.

Still, despite the girl’s best efforts, they couldn’t keep Matthew away all the time. He and Will still had to dance together. When they did, Matthew made no secret of the fact that he was unhappy with their actions. He was adamant that they spend time together, that if Will would just give him a chance then he would see that Matthew was perfect for this role and a far better choice than Hannibal Lecter. More than that, he was perfect for Will.

And then Matthew had decided to just push things too far.

While Jimmy had said that they would wait on new choreography until Hannibal arrived, with every day that he couldn’t get a visa they lost precious time. So, running out of time, Jimmy had decided to try out some ideas that he had had using Matthew and then they would refine them with Hannibal. It was going okay. Will like the ideas that Jimmy had and could see where he wanted to go, but they weren’t quite working. Or, rather, Matthew wasn’t working. He kept dismissing Jimmy’s ideas and trying to put forward his own, but they didn’t mesh with the existing choreography. He also couldn’t grasp why his ideas were being dismissed – Matthew was so enamoured with the fact that he was the lead, albeit temporarily, that he’d been blinded to everything else.

They’d been working steadily for a couple of hours, tempers fraying by the minute, when the rehearsal was interrupted by Randall, Jimmy’s timid assistant, telling them that Jimmy had an important call that he had to take. The second that they were alone in the studio, Matthew took his chance.

“What do you say you and I go out tonight? Good food, good wine, good company. We can see where the evening takes us.”

From the way that Matthew’s fingers were inching up Will’s leg, he knew exactly where Matthew was suggesting the evening went; his bed.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Will smacked Matthew’s hand away, “I make a habit of not getting involved with my partners.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard. All those rumours about you and Bella Crawford; plenty of people said that you got the principal’s job flat on your back. And then there’s Alana Bloom. An illicit kiss with your partner. You’ll get a reputation.”

Will’s ignored the last jibe. “How did you hear that? About Alana?”

“Freddie has her ways of finding things and out and we’ve known each other for a long time.”

Freddie Lounds.

That red-headed viper.

Of course, it would be her. Once a promising young ballerina, Freddie had got caught up in a rivalry with another dancer that hadn’t ended well. Not only had she been thrown out of ballet school, but when all of the treatments were ended, she had been unable to dance. In need of a new career, she had turned to journalism. By day, she worked for a reasonably well-respected tabloid but, by night, she ran a blog that focused on the more salacious side of the dance world; gossip, injuries, relationships.

Will’s mouth worked furiously, opening and closing although no sound emerged. Before he managed words, the door opened, and Jimmy stuck his head around the frame.

“I’m sorry, guys. I have to deal with this issue, and I don’t know how long it will take; no more rehearsals today. Will, if you wouldn’t mind, the costume department are ready to do some fittings.”

Will nodded jerkily and then exploded the minute Jimmy disappeared.

“How dare you say that I slept my way to the top. While you clearly wouldn’t have any compunctions doing that, I won that job fair and square with talent and hard work. Bella and I never had an affair; she’s like a mother to me. She knits me legwarmers for fuck’s sake. And I don’t know how Freddie found out about Alana and I but it was a kiss. A drunken kiss and nothing more. It was a mistake and one that I won’t be repeating.”

“Are you to be quoted saying that?”

Will stormed over to his bag. “Look, you may have set your sights on me, but I’m not interested in you in the slightest. Not now. Not ever just stay away from me.”

Will was still seething by the time that he found the costume department, but his mood brightened when he found Abigail there being fitted for her Moth Maiden costume as well as the one she would wear as the princess of Monaco. He liked Abigail – Abby as he, Bev and Margot were allowed to call her – a lot and he had a lot of time for her. He also knew exactly how she felt; he had also joined a large production straight out of school, all wide-eyed and innocent. For that reason alone, Will wanted to protect her.

Quiet where Bev was outgoing, Abby could be vivacious when you got to know her, and she was a beautifully lyrical dancer. Given that she was ballet trained, Will was even considering trying to get her a corps audition with Jack’s company if she wanted. What he did like was that Abby had grown up an outdoors girl and was very happy to sit and listen to Will wax lyrical about his dogs. That made him like a person.

An hour later, after rhapsodising about Winston and relaying Buster’s latest antics to a giggling Abby, Will was in a much better mood despite being poked and prodded what seemed like a hundred times. Indeed, he was in such a good mood that, when Bev and Margot kidnapped he and Abby for dinner, he didn’t protest. At least not too much. The production had only been up for a week and already he’d been more sociable than he had been in three months at Jack’s ; as well as drinks and dinner most nights, he’d found that Bev had added him to two group chats which was made all the more impressive by the fact that he didn’t remember giving her his number in the first place.

He wouldn’t be able to sustain this pace for the whole run. No way. Will was, by habit, an anti-social creature. He genuinely enjoyed spending time by himself and actually craved it in order to keep himself as some semblance of a semi-functioning human being. Even when he did get it, he wasn’t sure that he succeeded.

Then again, he wouldn’t be able to do it once the actual performances started. Things had come a long way since the days when dancers survived on cigarettes, carrot sticks and not a lot else. Now, there was sports science and nutritionists; dancers had to eat well and plenty of it in order for their bodies to be able to cope with the huge amounts of physical pressure that they were placed under. Even so, Will’s habits would change the closer that they got towards a run of shows. He’d stop drinking alcohol, start taking some supplements that would help his joints and focus on bulking out his diet with foods that would boost his energy. So, he might as well enjoy life while he could.

(~*~)

Dinner had been pleasant. Margot knew a hole in the wall place that served great burgers and beer, had a reasonable selection of whiskey and didn’t care to check Abby’s ID. They had all eaten far too much – and drank too much considering they had a 10am call for class. Unsurprisingly, Bev had wanted to talk about Matthew and Will wasn’t interested, shutting the conversation down as quickly as he could. Instead, he had chatted quietly to Abby, listening to her talk about different companies that she was considering auditioning for and offering his own advice and opinions, while Margot and Bev flirted on the other side of the table. They were just finishing off their beers when Will felt that prickle down his spine that said he was being watched. It was a sensation that he had sadly grown used to over the last week.

Casting a glance over his shoulder, he tried to see who it was watching him, but it was hard to see anything distinctly in the smoky darkness. Besides, it was a bar and, while he might next to no social skills, he still got hit on a fair amount by both men and women. Even so, Will felt uncomfortable while they paid their bill and gathered their things, irrespective of the fact that he couldn’t determine who was watching him. As they left, Will standing to the side to let the others go ahead of him, a hand latched onto his arm and pulled him into an alley by the entrance to the bar. Will glanced at the face of the person had accosted him; of course, he should have guessed.

“Matthew, what the fuck?”

Will could see that the girls had realised that Will was no longer with them and had turned around to see where he was. He also saw the moment that they realised why – or who – was the reason that he was behind. Margot frowned, Abby looked unhappy and, quite frankly, Bev looked murderous. In fact, Margot had grabbed her arm, preventing her from coming back over. He shook his head, as she mouthed asking if he wanted her to phone the police.

“How sweet. Your pets are worried,” there was an unmistakeable sneer in Matthew’s voice. One that was matched visually, twisting his face.

“Don’t call them that. And can you blame them for being worried? You followed me. Hell, you’re stalking me.”

“I had to make you understand. I _have_ to make you understand. Why can you not see it?” Matthew’s grip tightened on Will’s wrist until it was painful.

“What can’t I see?”

“That we belong together.” The sneer was gone, replaced by an insistent tone, one that was almost desperate. “We’re hawks, you and I. We’re the same. Solitary creatures that can be scared away by smaller birds. But if we work together, we can remain dominant.”

“Remain dominant? Matthew, what are you talking about? We’re dancers, nothing more than that.”

“But we could be more than that. The two of us together, we could be world famous.”

Will shook his head. “I don’t want to be world famous, Matthew. Especially not with you.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. If it were someone else having this conversation with you, then you might not be quite so reticent.”

Will glanced over Matthew’s shoulder, seeing where Bev, Margot and Abby still waited for him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course, you don’t. However, if Hannibal Lecter had said the same thing to you, then you would have jumped at the opportunity.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whatever you say. Just you wait though. We’ll see if Lecter makes it in time for opening night. Or, if he does, whether you survive this without making a fool of yourself.”

Will’s anger seethed. He wrenched his arm from Matthew’s grasp and shoved past him, turning to look back over his shoulder. “Fuck you, Matthew. Hannibal will make it and you’ll end up watching from the back row of the corps on opening night. I don’t want to see you outside the studio; if I do then I’m reporting you to Jimmy and then the cops for harassment.”

Will caught up to the waiting women, giving Bev a reassuring knock to the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“You alright?” There was no denying the concern in her voice, or the way that Abby and Margot moved in closer.

“Absolutely fine. He won’t be a problem again.”

“Here’s fucking hoping.”

~*~

His run-in with Matthew the previous evening – as well as in rehearsal - had cast a downer on Will’s evening, frustrating considering how pleasant it had been. He’d ended up sleeping badly and waking with a headache. Of course, that meant that he hadn’t wanted to get out of bed which inevitably led to him grabbing a breakfast burrito on his way alongside a vat of coffee with a chaser of painkillers, and him arriving thirty minutes later to the studio than he was planning on arriving.

He was still early for class. He’d deliberately planned it that way, especially as he hadn’t decided whether or not to tell Jimmy about the incident with Matthew the previous evening. What he’d been hoping for was an empty studio so that he could warm up in private while he turned things over in his head; dancing helped him process things, helped him see them more clearly.

What he hadn’t expected was for the studio to already be occupied.

Jimmy and Zeller – the latter looking half-asleep and grouchy as hell - were already there, along with a guy in jeans and a hoodie, doing pirouettes in socked feet. Will stared, completely dumbfounded as the man finished in an arabesque, laughing as he complained that it was supposed to be a triple, not the double that he’d just done. That was Hannibal Lecter.

Hannibal fucking Lecter was in the studio, doing double pirouettes in jeans and a hoodie.

The kit bag slung over Will’s shoulder slid off and landed on the floor with a thump. Seriously, how was this Will’s life? Every morning for the last week, he had psyched himself up, just in case it was the day that Hannibal materialised in the rehearsal studio and nothing. The morning that Will doesn’t bother, that he had a headache and was in a foul mood, the man appears. The irony was immense.

The sound alerted Jimmy to Will’s presence and he spun around, his face wreathed in smiles. “Will, fantastic! I was hoping you’d be here early. As you can see, great news; Hannibal’s visa issues all got sorted and he’s here. Hannibal, meet Will Graham, your prince.”

Hannibal moved forward to shake Will’s hand and Will went to meet him halfway, only to remember too late that his kit bag was on the floor in front of him. His foot got caught and then he was falling, flailing his arms for good measure and looking like a total idiot. A hand appeared in his vision, hauling him to his feet.

“The pleasure is all mine. I have to say though, while I realise you’ve been stuck dancing with Matthew, my partners are not normally so eager to see me that they fall at my feet.”

Utterly mortified, Will fell back on his default setting; being an asshole.

“An accident, I assure you. I don’t find you that interesting.”

Lecter, to give him his due, didn’t seem at all fazed by Will’s behaviour.

“You will.” Lecter gave a crooked smile, one that flashed his little fangs, and Will was gone; his bloody traitorous cock working overtime.

Oh shit. Could this get any worse? Will had run countless scenarios as to how their first meeting might go. None of them had even come close to this disaster. Not only had he embarrassed himself and been an asshole to his partner, but he’d got a hardon to compound his humiliation. Grabbing his bag and hoisting it onto his shoulder, pulling it around in front of him so that it covered his crotch, Will muttered something about getting changed and fled for the changing rooms.

He deliberately went for the smallest one, the one that most people avoided and locked the door behind him. He could just ignore his erection and sit here until it subsided, replaying his first mortifying interaction with Hannibal over and over again. Or, he could take care of things in the shower and maybe get it out of his system. It was probably wishful thinking but … hope springs eternal and all that rot.

Of course, Will ended up in the shower. It was one thing to have watched near enough every single video of Hannibal that the internet could throw up, but it was another thing entirely to be faced with the man in the flesh. Seriously, it should be illegal for a man to be that attractive. From the tanned flesh to the crooked grin that flashed those fangs and the way that his eyes had crinkled when he smiled. His form as he turned. Will closed his eyes and pictured it all as he braced himself against the wall of the shower, pulling at his cock. The sound of running water mostly masked the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, but Will bit into the meat of his shoulder to muffle his cries and whimpers. He came minutes later with a loud cry, one that couldn’t be completely silenced, and he waited, holding his breath for a sign that someone had heard him, as the running water carried away his semen.

Not exactly how he’d planned to start his morning.

(~*~)

His little ‘problem’ taken care of, Will got changed and made his way through to the rehearsal studio. In the time that he had been in the shower, the space had started filling up with the rest of the dancers and a motley crew were assembled by the barres in a variety of stretches. As Will made his way over to his usual spot at the bar, in between an annoyingly bright-eyed Abby and a reassuringly bleary-eyed Bev, he looked around for Hannibal. This would be where they saw whether or not Hannibal passed Will’s ‘is he a dick’ test. Matthew was already at his spot on the first barre, next to Chilton and Will was reminded that he didn’t decide what to do about the previous evening; Hannibal’s arrival had put it clear out of his mind.

Speaking of the devil, Hannibal had arrived in the studio and a sudden hush fell over the room. This would be an interesting class. After a week, the company had started to gel, but Hannibal was an unknown quantity, just as Will had been on the first day. He was an international name and they were all curious as to how he would behave. Will tried to focus on his stretches, but he was kidding himself. Every single atom of him was focused on Hannibal.

He’d clearly used one of the other changing rooms, changing out of his jeans and hoodie. Yet, he didn’t wear traditional practise clothes. Instead, he wore a mismatched combination of tracksuit and t-shirt from a variety of sporting brands, while his hair was pushed back from his face with a band. Admittedly, given that they were now all professionals and not students in dance school, they didn’t have a uniform per se but still, most of them wore some semblance of expected ballet wear. Hannibal also didn’t wear ballet shoes, but socks. As Will watched, Hannibal bestowed a hug upon the newly arrived – and also annoyingly fresh-faced – Margot, before he made his way to one of the central barres and bent to kiss Bedelia on both cheeks. Satisfied with her position, he made a space for himself and started to stretch as he spoke to her in – was that Italian? – seemingly uncaring of the scrutiny that he was being subjected to.

Will’s scrutiny, however, was spared for Margot as she slipped in next to him at the barre.

“Were you ever going to mention that you knew Hannibal?”

“It never really came up,” Margot was clearly unrepentant. “Besides, I don’t know him that well. I know his sister, Mischa, much better. The two of us were at ballet school together. She dances in Paris now; we’re still in touch though.”

There was no further opportunity for gossip as Zeller started their class, not giving Hannibal any extra attention, the same as he had behaved with Will. The guy could be an asshole, but Will respected his lack of bias. Everybody, subtle or not, was watching Hannibal. He was either oblivious or he didn’t give a shit about the glances shot his way. In the most part, they were admiring – speculative even - but, from one part of the barre, they could only be described as murderous.

Matthew Brown was clearly unhappy that Hannibal had finally made an appearance. This meant that he was, once more, relegated to the corps and his chance of glory was gone.

Unless he did something stupid.

Will might not like the guy, but he really hoped that Matthew didn’t do something stupid.

~*~

Despite the fact that they had lost a week of rehearsals without Hannibal, once they had finished class, Jimmy opted to start from the beginning of the show and do a run straight through. Act one was pretty slick now and they had started to refine things. Will still wasn’t used to dancing with Bedelia and Anthony was as creepy as ever. However, dancing with Bev was a blast. Today, it was even more amusing because Bev was clearly suffering from the previous evening. Their time together was all too brief and then it was time for act two.

The act in the city park. The famous swan act.

The act that featured Hannibal’s first appearance as the Swan.

This was what Will had been waiting for for the last week and he found himself holding his breath in anticipation.

The corps seemed revitalised with Hannibal at their head instead of Matthew. Will couldn’t see them, although he knew that they were dancing behind him, but the energy felt different somehow. Casting a sneak peek at Bev confirmed his thoughts. The swans behind him exited the ‘stage’ and Will was left alone as the Prince wrote his suicide note. And then it was time for Hannibal to enter the stage.

Were this a traditional production of Swan Lake, the ballerina playing Odette would be aiming to create an illusion of being an ethereal creature. This being formed by magic, from another world. That wasn't feasible for Hannibal. His presence was simply too powerful. Yet, even in Adidas tracksuit pants and a threadbare t-shirt that strained at his shoulders and clung to his stomach, he had this otherworldly presence that Will had imagined.

From his very first step, Hannibal _was_ the Swan.

He made his entrance, leaping over Will's head and a shiver went down Will's spine. In the exact same moment, Hannibal's grand jéte caused his t-shirt to ride up and reveal just a sliver of belly which, in turn, was like a lightning bolt to Will's cock. But then he was mesmerised by Hannibal's dancing.

Every single movement, every ripple of his back, every flick of his head was perfectly in character. As the Prince, Will was supposed to be entranced by the Swan and, well, he wasn’t having to act. He couldn’t help but follow Hannibal around the stage, watching wide-eyed. And then they were off-stage and it was the turn of the corps. Will couldn’t believe the difference in them. It wasn’t as though they had been dancing badly this week, but it had been a little lacklustre. Now, there was a drive, a focus to their dancing. As though a fire had been lit underneath them, from the shy Peter to the somewhat apathetic Nick.

By the time that they got to the first pas de deux that Will and Hannibal shared, Will could feel his chest was tight and the blood was thrumming in his veins in anticipation. The rejuvenated corps was giving them all life.

That didn’t change once they started dancing. From the very beginning of their pas de deux, from when Hannibal used Will as his support to promenade in attitude to the moment that Hannibal held his attitude, leg wrapped back around Will’s hip with Will’s hips at Hannibal’s thigh and waist, Will knew that this was something special. He knew and that this partnership was going to be something to be seen, something to rival what he had shared with Bella. Just, more somehow. There was none of the disconnect that he had felt with Matthew. He and Hannibal were perfectly in synch with each other and, except for maybe Bella and Alana, Will had never felt more comfortable with a partner. They had never danced together, but it felt as though they had been doing so for the whole of their professional careers.

Every single movement was anticipated perfectly and the connection was palpable. They could barely tear their eyes away from each other, and that was a big deal for Will who had never been that fond of it.

As act two came to a close, a hush fell across the studio before the entire company burst into rapturous applause while Will and Hannibal grinned at each other, both of them feeling almost giddy. If there had been any concerns about the success of this, they had just been vanquished.

~*~

Things didn't change as rehearsals continued over the next few days. Jimmy was in raptures and even Zeller had been seen cracking a smile. Everyone was rejuvenated and working harder than before. It was one of those times when everyone knew that what they were working on was something really special, one of those dream projects that doesn't come around too often.

Hannibal had slotted into the company perfectly and liked by everyone. He was supportive to the rest of the swans, didn't have airs and graces and mucked in with the rest of them. He smoked like a chimney on breaks and rarely said no to a beer after a long day of rehearsals. What Will really liked, was the way that he helped the younger dancers in the corps; Marissa Schurr and Cassie Boyle, who were playing two of the princesses and Nick Boyle, one of the youngest swans, but especially Abby. Will had grown truly fond of Abby, seeing her as a little sister, and he knew that she had a genuine talent that needed to be nurtured and cultivated. He'd spent plenty of time after hours with her in the studio, not only running her Moth Maiden solo but possible audition repertoire as well, and it pleased him to see that Hannibal was doing the same, offering his opinions.

"He used to do the same with Mischa, when we were students. Still does, I believe."

"They're close?"

"Yeah. They're orphans; parents were killed when they were young and they were on their own for a while before an aunt and uncle were found. Both Hannibal and Mischa trained at the Paris Opera."

Will raised an eyebrow, well that explained a lot. "She sounds interesting."

"You'd like her a lot. Maybe she'll come to see the show and you can meet her."

Will gave a noncommittal hum and focused on what he could see in the studio; Abby had a tendency to over-rotate on her left side and it seemed like Hannibal had noticed that as well, something that pleased Will for some inexplicable reason.

"Just make sure you stop drooling before your rehearsal; you wouldn't want to slip and fall flat on your arse in front of Hannibal."

"What?" Will scrubbed at his chin, as a laughing Margot flounced off down the corridor making kissing noises. "I hate my life."

~*~

The private rehearsals - where it was just Will, Hannibal and Jimmy - were going just as well as the full cast ones. There had been a little part of Will that had been concerned that the success with Hannibal had simply been sheer relief that he was no longer dancing with Matthew. That definitely wasn't the case.

The chemistry between them was just as electric and had Will feeling more than a little hot under the collar. Even if he weren't dancing with a man, this was completely different to dancing with Alana. He enjoyed dancing with Alana, but with Hannibal, he ran a whole gamut of emotions while he danced.

The choreographic process was a lot smoother with Hannibal there. He didn't fight against Jimmy's ideas, he embraced them. Like Will, he could see what Jimmy was trying to achieve. With them both on the same wavelength, they found themselves improvising; taking Jimmy's choreography and running with it, seeing where the emotions and movement took them. It was a far more collaborative process than any new work Will had worked on but he relished the creative process. It helped that Jimmy was willing to loosen the reins and let them experiment. He changed a few things here and there, but was more than happy to include their ideas.

By the time that Hannibal had been in situ for five days, they were at a point where they were able to run all of their pas de deux's including all of the new material. As a result of seeing them dance together, Jimmy had even decided to include a new pas de deux, utilising some music that had been left out in his previous incarnations. They were due to run the whole ballet the following day - a Saturday - before having the Sunday off and resuming on Monday. As a result, Jimmy had requested that they dance the new pas de deux one final time flat out before they departed for the evening.

This was the part that Will and Hannibal had contributed to the most and it was easily the most erotic piece of choreography that Will had ever danced. Every single movement, every step was sexually charged, designed to seduce. Their bodies slid together as though this dance were a precursor to sex. It called for extensive eye- contact and hands caressing faces, tangling in hair. By the time they found their final pose - Will's thigh wrapped around Hannibal's hip, hand on his cheek while Hannibal had one hand low on Will's back and the other on the back of his neck, their foreheads resting against each other - their chests were heaving and the sweat was dripping from them. Will was painfully hard in his dance belt and he was pretty sure that Hannibal was as well. There was a bead of sweat just above Hannibal's lip and, if Jimmy hadn't burst into rapturous applause, Will was pretty certain that he would have given in to temptation.

"Well, if you dance like that, I think you're going to have audience members sliding off their seats. The chemistry between you is off the charts. Great job, guys. I just knew that I made the right choice casting you two. Go and enjoy your Friday night."

Will didn't waste any time; he muttered a hasty goodbye and made a swift exit for the sanctuary of the showers.

(~*~)

"So, you and the delectable Lecter … what's the story?"

Bev, Margot and Abigail had invited themselves over for dinner when Will had refused to go out, citing his need to spend some time with the dogs. He obviously hadn't mentioned the fact that the quick wank he'd had at the studio hadn't been enough after his rehearsal with Hannibal and he'd had to resort to using his favourite toy when he got home. Buster was cradled in Abby's lap like a baby looking extremely pleased with himself while Bev and Margot were buried under a pile of dogs. Only Winston had refused to turn traitor and stayed at Will's side.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh please. Your flirting is so far off the charts that a blind person could spot it a mile off. What I want to know is what it's like when you're in the studio by yourselves; is it better or worse? Because the public eye-fucking is pretty intense already. Zee said you're worse but I can't work out if he's shitting me or not."

Will choked on his drink, "Bev!"

"What? Zee likes nothing more than being a shit and I need accurate information so I can decide whether or not I should set up a pool on when you and Lecter are going to bang."

"Set up the pool. They're worse."

Now Will did choke. "ABBY!"

"What? It's the truth. I watched your rehearsal this morning. Hannibal looked as though he wanted to rip your clothes off and have you on the studio floor. I could have bought pointe shoes for a year if I'd sold tickets to that show."

Margot and Bev high-fived Abby as Will gaped like a fish.

"That's it. You're cut off; you're not allowed to spend time with these miscreants anymore. They're corrupting you."

"Whatever, _dad."_ Abby looked pleased as Bev and Margot cheered and nudged her. "They're expensive and if I'm auditioning for companies like you and Hannibal suggest, I'll be getting through them even quicker."

"So, you both clearly want to jump each other's bones. When are you going to do something about it?"

Will petted Winston, ruffling his ears as he killed time before answering. "I'm not going to. Look, even if Hannibal is flirting and interested, that doesn't mean it's a good idea. I kissed Alana once and it was a huge mistake; things were awkward as hell for the rest of the run and they're still not back to normal. What if the same thing happens with Hannibal? I can't risk it. Maybe at the end of the run."

Will buried his face in Winston's face as soon as he finished speaking. Maybe if he couldn't see the faces that they were pulling, it meant that it wasn't happening.

~*~

Of course, the good luck had to end.

On Saturday morning, Marissa was missing from class. She wasn't answering her phone and nobody had seen her since the corps were released the following day. She finally made a somewhat sheepish entrance as class was ending, on crutches and with her left ankle in plaster up to her knee. When questioned, she couldn't remember exactly what had happened but was fairly certain that she had got drunk and then decided to show off her ability to do fouettes. In stilettos.

Zeller exploded. He railed at her for her selfishness, for her lack of common sense and her lack of respect for her fellow dancers. Jimmy just kept shaking his head and looking as though he wanted to cry. As a crying Marissa left, head hanging low, Jimmy summoned Randall and told him to start phoning the dancers that they hadn't cast to see if any of them were still available. Before Randall could get started, Hannibal stepped forward.

"Forgive me if I am being too forward, but I may have a solution. My sister…"

"Would she be willing to dance?"

"The season has ended in Paris. I see no harm in a phone call. If she says no, then nothing has been lost."

"Yes, please."

Hannibal did as asked and, after retrieving his phone, conducted a brief conversation in what Will assumed was Lithuanian. It couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes before Hannibal hung up and gave a reassuring smile.

"Mischa would be delighted to be of assistance. She will get a flight tomorrow and join us at some point on Monday."

An ecstatic Jimmy planted a smacking kiss to Hannibal's cheek before kissing Zeller in triumph. "Now this calls for a celebration. First round in Kade's is on me tonight."

"Now get back to work, you lazy bastards!

Despite Marissa's missing princess, the full rehearsal went well. Amazingly well. Hannibal and Will even received a standing ovation from the company at the end of their act 3 pas de deux. As a result, almost the whole cast went to Kade's - the bar just down the block from the studio - to take Jimmy up on his offer. Unsurprisingly, both Hannibal and Will were popular with everyone. Everyone wanted to congratulate them, to discuss something with them.

When they were released, Will was more than a little surprised that Hannibal stayed by his side. As Margot and Bev flirted - again - and a clumsy Nick Boyle complimented Abby on her dancing, Hannibal listened to Will ramble on about his dogs. To Will's amazement, Hannibal didn't just listen, he asked questions as though he were genuinely interested. Not only that, but he asked for Will's phone number. Okay, so it was phrased in case they needed to discuss anything or schedule extra rehearsals but that wasn't the point. The point was that Hannibal had asked.

It was as he was giving Hannibal the last few digits of his cell number, that Will felt that familiar sensation that he was being watched. Sure enough, when he scanned the room, Matthew was watching him, glaring daggers at Hannibal.

Will really hoped he hadn't majorly fucked up by giving Hannibal his number.

~*~

On the Monday, despite Will's worries, Matthew seemed quiet during class. He still stood in his usual spot at the front near Chilton, but he wasn't posturing as much. Of course, that didn't go unnoticed. Abby, naive and wanting to believe the best in everyone, suggested that he might have changed but Margot and Bev had rolled their eyes and said that he was up to something. Will, despite a very pleasant Sunday texting Hannibal, couldn't help but agree with them and found himself struggling to concentrate during the first exercises at the barre.

Things went without a hitch until they finished at the barre and started to move the barres away, ready to start centre work. Some of the ladies changed into pointe shoes and this was the time when Hannibal usually changed from socks to ballet shoes. He went about his usual routine, only to stop when he started to roll onto the ball of his right foot. Standing on one leg, he removed the shoe and upended it, a stream of broken glass falling from it. The same happened with the left shoe.

The whole room fell silent. Completely and utterly shell shocked.

And then Matthew started shouting. How he should have been the Swan, how Will belonged to him and on and on. How Hannibal had ruined everything. While most people were frozen in shock, Will saw Randall make a phone call out of the corner of his eye. Ten minutes later, and the studio was crawling with police.

"Hannibal, I cannot apologise enough. This should never have happened. We've had issues with him, but I never thought he would stoop to this level."

“It could be worse. A bit of glass is nothing. We could be in Russia and it could have been acid in my face."

Will had to hand it to Hannibal; he was taking this with great magnanimity. If it had been Will who had found glass in his ballet shoes - put there by a fellow member of the company - he would not have been this calm. He was certainly a lot calmer than Matthew, who was all but howling as he was cuffed and led away by the police. Hannibal followed Will's gaze, his face and tone remaining placid.

"He is no great loss to the company, we will be fine without him. I have another pair of shoes so we can continue with the class."

Indeed, it appeared as though class would continue as normal with Matthew barely missed by anyone. If anything, the whole incident raised people's opinions of Hannibal given his calm reaction to the whole thing. They were now less than four weeks away from opening night and they all hoped that they made it there without further incident. Zeller had just started to demonstrate the adage when he was interrupted again, this time by a statuesque blonde who looked somewhat familiar.

"Well that was all terribly dramatic. I hope it wasn't done for my benefit."

Hannibal darted away from his spot at the bar - now next to Will, much to the amusement of certain ladies - swinging her around with a goofy grin.

"Mischa!"

Mischa Lecter had arrived.


	4. Intermission

Mischa definitely made things more interesting in more ways than one.

On the dance front, she couldn’t have been more perfect. It was a huge coup for Jimmy and the company to have a soloist from the Paris Opera Ballet in the production as well as Will and Hannibal. It was certainly better than Marissa, who had only done ballet because it was a requirement of her course. Everybody was inordinately grateful to her for stepping in in their hour of need but Mischa was humble and brushed off their gratitude, saying that it was a great opportunity for her to actually dance in the same production as her brother. She also passed Will’s test, pausing to give Bedelia a kiss to each cheek before continuing to give Margot as an exuberant greeting as the one she had bestowed upon her brother. Zeller called the company back to order, starting to call out what he wanted for the adage. Will listened with half an ear, most of his attention focused on Mischa.

She had stepped out of her street clothes to reveal practise clothes beneath and was somehow managing to split her attention between warming up, listening to Zeller and having a conversation with Hannibal in what Will was pretty certain was Lithuanian. It was all very impressive. And then she started dancing and Will was impressed all over again. She was amazing. Her training at Paris Opera was apparent, as was the fact that she was a world-class dancer, just as her brother. Will could even see similarities between her dancing and Hannibal’s. What he couldn’t understand was why she wasn’t an international name already. He glanced to his right at Abby and he could practically see the hearts in her eyes; she was clearly going to idolise Mischa. Just beyond Abby, at the other side of the studio, he could see Bev watching Mischa with a very different – but no less intense – look in her eye and he hoped that this wasn’t going to cause issues with Margot. He was fond of both of them and he didn’t want to have to pick sides.

The rest of class went smoothly and, as it drew to an end, the company split up for rehearsals. The swans were to be drilled by Zeller while Jimmy worked with Hannibal and Will. The princesses would be working with the other ballet mistress – Molly – to get Mischa up to speed on the new choreography, which was different to that which she was used to. Somehow, Will didn’t think that she would have any problems. After all, she had danced the dual role of Odette/Odile and, if she could remember all of that choreography, then the role of Hungarian princess wouldn’t cause her any problems. Not that it was Will’s place to worry about it. No, he had his own problems to worry about.

Mainly revolving around Hannibal.

Dancing with Hannibal was amazing, there was no doubt about that. It was everything that Will had hoped for and more. The problem was that, dancing with Hannibal was an exquisite torture. Will had known that before he went into this thing but there had been one thing that he had never considered the possibility of. Hadn’t dared to. And that was the possibility that Hannibal was as interested in Will as Will was in him.

He had known that this partnership with Hannibal was something special. Something that would exceed what he had with Alana, would rival what he had had with Bella. Yet, it wasn’t just the dancing that was special. It was more than that. There was a connection there, one that Will didn’t think he had ever had with anybody before. Hannibal had said that Will would find him interesting and he had been right. But what was more mind-boggling was that Hannibal seemed to find Will just as interesting. And then there was that frisson of sexual tension that was constantly there, and which felt like it was threatening to boil over every time they made eye contact; which was frequently. Will had wondered if he was imagining it, if it was just wishful thinking, until Bev had brought it up and Margot and Abby had confirmed her proclamation. Now, Will couldn’t stop thinking about it.

What if they were right? What if Hannibal was actually interested in Will? Will hadn’t been lying to Bev and the others that he was worried about possible repercussions if he tried something with Hannibal and it failed. Things with Alana had left him badly burned and, given how much he was enjoying himself, he didn’t want to destroy everything. The way that Hannibal behaved didn’t help Will’s resolve though.

He was never unprofessional or creepy like Matthew had been. He was just … intense was probably the right word. Hannibal was always close to Will, not just when they were dancing, but when they were discussing things either between themselves or with Jimmy. Will never felt like he was looming though, or trying to appear imposing. Instead, he found it strangely reassuring. And then there was the eye contact. Will had never had this much eye contact with a partner and it felt right. There was just something about Hannibal that felt right.

Of course, that had Will's crush working in overdrive. He could control himself in rehearsals but, whenever he got home, he found himself wanking furiously. He hadn't masturbated this much since he was a teenager; it was amazing that his cock wasn't red raw. It definitely made his resolution to not initiate anything with Hannibal until the end of the run harder to stick to.

~*~

The day after Mischa's arrival, she and Hannibal arrived at rehearsal together and immediately headed over to where Will was warming up at the barre whilst simultaneously inhaling his third coffee of the day.

"Will, I would like you to meet my sister, Mischa. Mischa, this is Will Graham."

Given how cheerful she looked, Will was a little concerned that Mischa might be a hugger and so he was very relieved when she held out a hand instead. "It's so nice to meet you. Hanni has spoken about you so much, I feel like I know you already."

Will felt his eyebrows rise as he turned to look at Hannibal. "Hanni?"

"Childhood nickname that I have never quite managed to persuade her to abandon."

Will turned back to Mischa, and shook the outstretched hand. "It's nice to meet you too. I'm afraid I can't say the same about you; Hannibal hasn't really mentioned you." And then Will processed what else Mischa had said. "Wait, how much has Hannibal talked about me? It can't be that much; he's only been here a week."

"Perhaps, but the internet is a wonderful thing. Sometimes. Hanni was talking about you for a while before he got here. He's seen all of your videos on YouTube."

Was that a blush dusting Hannibal's ridiculous cheekbones? Will couldn't help but be amused as Hannibal wrapped an arm around Mischa and tried to direct her away towards Bedelia.

"I think perhaps it is time for us to find a spot at the barre, Mischa?"

"What's wrong with here? Isn't this where you usually stand with your friends? I like it here."

Mischa was an immovable force and would not be moved, forcing Hannibal to give up and resign himself to being embarrassed by his sister. He looked positively relieved as Zeller chose that moment to knock back his espresso and clap his hands, calling the room to order and class to start.

As the day progressed, through class and then a full run-through, Will couldn't help but be aware that he was being scrutinised by Mischa. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it. At least not until he and Hannibal had finished one of their pas de deux and he saw the smile that curved her lips and the pleased look in her eyes. She then proceeded to bombard Hannibal with a flurry of Lithuanian, not giving him the opportunity to respond before she whirled on Will.

"I'm sorry I couldn't meet you all properly last night; jet lag. Margot told me about a pub down the road and we were going to go. It would be lovely if you would join us. It would be nice to get to know the person that has Hanni so intrigued."

Despite his resolutions, and the fact that the dogs would be getting their dinner late - again - he found himself agreeing.

The instant that they sat down in Kade's, Will found that Mischa had arranged the seating beforehand so he was besieged by Mischa on one side, Bev on the other and Hannibal at the other end of the table. Mischa didn't waste her time. Will had barely taken a sip of his drink before she was firing questions at him.

"So, how you're with Jack Crawford's company? You've been a principal since you were 19? Where are you from? Are you single? Who do you normally partner? Tell me everything."

Will, like a deer in the headlights, was apparently a sucker for anyone with the Lecter name, did exactly that.

~*~

It didn't take long for Will to regret Mischa's arrival. Well, maybe that was a rather strong statement.

Oh, she was a wonderful dancer, a lovely human being and Hannibal clearly adored her, but her choice in friends sucked. And yes, Will was perfectly aware that said friends were also his friends. She had teamed up with Bev and Margot, turning the duo - who were bad enough on their own - into an unholy trinity set on making Will’s life far more complicated than it needed to be. Worse, they were set on corrupting Abby and dragging her along for the ride. It galled Will that she hadn't needed all that much persuasion.

The alliance seemed to have started the evening that Mischa had cornered him in Kade’s and questioned him about everything. To be honest, he was amazed that she hadn't asked for his social security number, blood type and baby photos. Since then, they all seemed hell-bent on forcing Will to do sociable things with, but not being happy with the way that he did them? It was Jack Crawford and the supposedly obligatory gala dinners with patrons and donors all over again.

There had been tickets to a concert that Will had had to leave halfway through when the vet phoned about one of his dogs, an exhibition about dance that they had run into Bella at and Will had invited her to join them at, a lunch where Margot, Bev and Mischa had all strangely cancelled and even Abby had tried to leave them alone.

Will didn't know if it was as a direct result of these events but, now, there was a lot of furtive glances, whispered conversations or conversations that stopped completely when he got close and some rather scary cackling. Even more disturbing had been the couple of times that Jimmy had joined them with a look of glee as he participated.

None of it was good for Will. It was making him paranoid, jumpy and grumpy as hell. Essentially, the complete opposite of Hannibal who was still perfectly calm and collected. What the hell was Will supposed to assume from that? Was all of this just for Will's benefit? Or was he just not seeing them do the same to Hannibal? Even worse, was it directed at Hannibal as well and he wasn't reacting because he wasn't interested in Will? All of these things that Will thought he was seeing were just in his head.

Although, the more that he thought about it, all of those sociable events had been with Hannibal. Add in their behaviour and, well, Will was often oblivious but he wasn't totally stupid. Were they matchmaking?

He distinctly remembered having a conversation with Margot and Bev where he had quite clearly said that he didn't want to do anything about his crush on Hannibal until after the show had ended. Yet, not only had they decided to ignore him, they'd pulled Hannibal's sister into their scheming. Well, there was only one thing for it; Will was just going to have to ignore them and hope that they gave up.

Somehow, he didn't think it would work.

~*~

"So, Will, has Hanni cooked for you yet?"

Mischa asked her question as they were all sat in Kade's one evening after rehearsals, about ten days after Mischa had arrived. Rehearsals were progressing apace and, at the start of the next week, they would be moving into the venue to start getting used to the space.

"Umm, no?" Will was a little confused by the question. "Why would he have done?"

"Because he's an amazing cook and he likes cooking for people. The most ridiculous recipes. It's like a whole show. He juggles the food and everything. You should come for dinner one night and he can cook."

"Oh no, I couldn't…"

"Mažoji sesuo, perhaps Will…"

Both Will and Hannibal spoke at the same time, only to stop and laugh awkwardly, both gesturing for the other to go first before Will spoke.

"Don't feel that you have to. I wouldn't want to impose if you felt like you'd been forced to invite me."

"Not at all. Mischa is right, I do enjoy cooking for people very much and friends even more so. The only reason that I haven't asked before was because I was not sure if you were … how do you say it? Sick of the sight of me? We already spend all day together…"

"No, no." Will cleared his throat and flushed at how eagerly he had responded. "I, umm, I'm not sick of you. Not at all." He deliberately ignored the way that Bev and Margot's shoulders were shaking in silent laughter.

Ugh. Evil wenches. He hated them. "Dinner would be great. As long as you're sure I'm not imposing. Don't feel you have to."

"Not at all. It would be my genuine pleasure. Would Saturday be convenient? If you don't already have plans that is…"

That was the comment that broke Bev and she snorted. Loudly. Which earned her a glare from Abby and an amused look from Mischa. Margot had opted for signalling for more booze. Will just wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

"No, I don't have plans" _other than walking my pack._ "Do you want me…"

"You don't need to bring anything except yourself, my dear Will."

Thank god for the low lighting in Kade's, otherwise everybody would be able to see Will was blushing so much he resembled a tomato. Yeah, there was no chance Will was going to survive this.

~*~

By the time that Saturday came around, Will was starting to regret his acceptance of dinner with Hannibal. Why had he agreed to this? Abby had offered to look after the dogs for the evening, but Will had assured her that it was unnecessary. Mostly, Will hadn’t wanted Abby to see the inevitable freak-out that he had.

Because he had.

Given that it was a Saturday and they only had the one ballet in production, they only did a half-day of rehearsals. Will left his phone at home and had spent the afternoon indulging the dogs in a long walk, trying not to think too much about the evening by laughing at his dogs’ antics. Buster, especially, was a perfect distraction technique.

Of course, he had to go home eventually. He could hardly turn up in jeans and a plaid shirt if Hannibal was cooking dinner for him, even if it was his default. When he pulled his phone out, predictably, the women in his life had tried to blow his phone up. There was a, quite frankly, obscene number of messages left through the two apps on Will’s phone and, when they hadn’t garnered a response, the trio had reverted to phone calls. There were multiple missed calls from Bev, one from Margot and one from Abby. His voicemail was full to bursting.

He ignored all of the ones from Bev - most of which seemed to revolve around her telling him to ‘tap that ass’ - and listened to the one from Abby which sweetly told him to have a nice time and she’d be more than happy to dogsit if he’d changed his mind. Will then listened to the one from Margot as he perused his wardrobe and immediately took back every mean thought that he’d had of her as she instructed him on exactly what to wear. It was only when he was in the shower that he stopped in dawning horror and wondered when, precisely, Margot had gone through his wardrobe.

(~*~)

For all of his procrastination at home about whether to actually come or not, Will still found himself at the address that Hannibal had given him a good fifteen minutes before he was supposed to be there. Plenty of time to have a complete and utter freak out about the whole thing. Which, of course, he proceeded to do. His hands were sweating so much that he was amazed that he hadn’t dropped the bottle of wine that he had brought (he really hoped the guy in the shop hadn’t been lying when he said it was good). Why had he let those harpies of friends and colleagues to talk him into this? Nothing good was going to come of this. He was a walking disaster when it came to relationships and that was with people that he didn’t really like. He really liked Hannibal. _Really_ really liked him. That was why he didn’t want to fuck this up. At least Mischa would be there to act as a buffer and hopefully stop him from doing something too stupid.

Finally, when he was no longer obnoxiously early, he stepped forward and, after checking that he had the right flat number, pushed the buzzer. It only took seconds for it to be answered but, even so, Will had to fight the urge to bolt. The intercom crackled and then Mischa’s voice echoed out, sounding slightly tinny.

“Will? Is that you? Hi! Come on up.”

The door released and Will grabbed it, holding it open. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He marched straight for the elevator, opting for that hoping that being encased in a small steel box would stop him from making a run for it. Hannibal had rented out the penthouse suite of the building and Will couldn’t help but stare around him as he stepped out. The door at the other end of the hallway was open, and seconds later, Mischa appeared.

Will took in her leather jacket, the way that she was checking her bag to make sure she had everything and froze. “Mischa. You look like you’re not staying…”

She swept forward and enveloped him in a hug and a cloud of Chanel No.5, kissing him three times on the cheek. “I’m sorry. Bev asked me out for a drink, and I thought it would be nice for you and Hanni to have some time to yourself.” She pulled back and fixed Will with a stern glance, although it was ruined somewhat by the look of mischief in her eyes.

“If I get back and find out that you’ve talked dance all evening, I will be _very_ disappointed.”

“Noted.”

“Just make sure you do as I told you.”

Will mock-saluted her and watched as she disappeared into the elevator, the doors closing with one final shot of her wicked grin. Will steeled himself once more and walked down the short corridor and into the penthouse flat. The door shut behind him and Hannibal’s voice echoed through the space, carrying above the sound of classical music; Bach, if Will wasn’t mistaken.

“Mischa? Was that Will at the door?”

“Yes, it’s me.” Will swallowed heavily as Hannibal’s head popped round an alcove, his hair flopping in his eyes and wearing an apron.

“Will! Is Mischa not with you?”

“She was on her way out; she said something about meeting Bev?”

Hannibal didn’t look disappointed that Mischa wouldn’t be with them but, rather pleased. Something that his words confirmed.

“Strange, she never mentioned anything. Still, more for us to eat. And I can hardly complain about not having to share you with my sister.”

Will smiled and took a hesitant step forward. He wasn't going to read too much into that. He wasn't. “It smells good. Whatever it is.” It really did. Will ate reasonably well out of necessity as a dancer but, he wasn’t actually that good a cook. By the smell of it, Hannibal was a gourmet chef.

“Tenderloin of beef with salad and pan-roasted potatoes.”

“Wow. Oh! I brought wine,” Will awkwardly proffered the bottle, “I’m not sure if it’s any good. The guy in the shop told me that it was but…”

“This will pair very nicely with dinner. Thank you, Will.” Hannibal removed the cork swiftly and efficiently, setting the bottle on the side to breathe. “Dinner should be ready in approximately five minutes. Please feel free to take a seat in the living room in the meantime.”

“I’d rather watch you cook if that’s okay?” Will gave a self-deprecating chuckle, “I’m hopeless in the kitchen. If eating well wasn’t a requirement of the job, my dogs would be better fed than me.”

Will found himself mesmerised by the sight of Hannibal cooking. His movements were as graceful as when he danced and as skilled as a professional chef. Mischa really hadn’t been lying about Hannibal’s skills in the kitchen. And then, Will noticed what Hannibal was wearing.

Whenever Will had seen Hannibal, he had been wearing tracksuits or sportswear. Not just in rehearsals, but whenever they went to the pub, he was always in a variety of sportswear and tracksuits. Now, however? It was the complete opposite. Hannibal was in neatly pressed slacks and a ribbed sweater that had Will itching to see if it was as soft to the touch as it looked.

As Hannibal had said, dinner was ready in five minutes and Will was ushered through to the dining table. The plates, beautifully dressed, looked as though they belonged in a Michelin starred restaurant. To Will's delight, Hannibal sat close enough to him that their elbows brushed every now and then. They did discuss shop a lot, but the conversation didn't revolve solely around dance. How could it when Hannibal had cooked food like that? Hannibal waited until Will took a bite, his eyes fluttering shut and a truly embarrassing sound escaping his lips, before he ate himself, looking rather smug. All too soon, the food was finished and they moved to the sofa with the rest of the wine.

As the evening progressed, Will found that they were incrementally gravitating towards each other. It was as though they were magnets slowly being drawn towards each other. They kept swaying together, eyes flicking down to look at lips. When they finally did kiss, Will wasn't entirely certain who made the first move, but he didn't really care. It was chaste but that didn't matter; they were kissing. He hummed happily and tilted his head slightly to get a better angle. Will could feel Hannibal's hand cupping his skull, thumb stroking through his curls as Will stroked his hands across Hannibal's chest. When Will pulled back, he chuckled.

"The women will be happy; I think they've been trying to matchmake."

"Mischa is many things, but she is not subtle. I have been aware of her machinations since she started."

"You knew? And you went along with it all?"

Hannibal stroked his hand down Will's cheek, "darling Will, of course. I would put up with far more if you were the reward."

Restraint went out of the window. Will lunged for Hannibal; there was no other explanation for it. This time, it was definitely not chaste. It was hot, wet, messy. Hands clutching, noses bumping and teeth clashing. It was everything Will had hoped for and more. He let Hannibal push him back onto the sofa cushions, tugging Hannibal down to blanket him with his body.

As their kisses turned slower, more languid, Will couldn't help but let his previous fears come to the surface. He pulled back and turned his head to the side, forcing Hannibal to nuzzle into his neck rather than kiss him.

“Is this a good idea? We have to work together for the whole run; what if this doesn’t work out?”

Hannibal paused but didn't withdraw. “I don’t know. But I do know that I don’t want to stop.”

“Me neither.”

This time, it was Hannibal's turn to do the lunging, pressing Will further into the cushions as he kissed him passionately.

(~*~)

The two of them, curled up asleep together on the couch, were utterly oblivious to the sound of Mischa tiptoeing quietly into the apartment in the early hours of the morning and standing over them. Finally, she had been starting to wonder if any of their matchmaking attempts would ever be successful.

She covered them carefully with a blanket and had to cover her mouth quickly to stop the ‘awwww’ from being too audible as Hannibal wrapped his arm tighter around Will, who made a soft sound. She couldn't resist snapping a quick photo to send to the group chat with Bev, Margot and Abby. This was why these two needed them; if it hadn’t been for the women in their lives, these two would still be dancing around each other, no pun intended.

In between flirting that evening, she and Bev had discussed how useless the two men were. Mischa had seen her brother in relationships before and, whilst some of them had been reasonably successful, none of them had been quite right. They either hadn’t been from the dance world and thus complained about how much time Hannibal spent at the theatre or in rehearsals. Or, they simply were more interested in his money - his inheritance – and his fame than anything else.

Will, however? Will was perfect.

Will didn’t give a damn about money or fame. He had plenty of both himself and all but shunned them. He was down to earth and he understood the dance world. He also understood Hannibal. Mischa had certainly never seen her brother so smitten with anybody before. And, even better, Will seemed just as smitten. Mischa liked that. She liked the fact that Will was only really interested in dance, his dogs and Hannibal even better. Plus, she liked the people that he surrounded himself with; Bev and Margot and Abby. They were good people and that said a lot about Will.

She took another look at the way that they were cuddled up together. The way that Hannibal’s arms were wrapped around Will and his nose buried in Will’s neck. The look of total relaxation and comfort on Will’s face, the way that he was clutching Hannibal’s hands where they were wrapped around him.

She had the feeling that she might be having to wake them up in the morning. She was glad that she had said yes to this project when Hannibal had asked her.  Not only was she having fun dancing, but she’d met a gorgeous woman and, finally, managed to fix her notoriously picky brother up with someone. Hannibal had better make her his famous protein scramble for breakfast as a thank you.

 


	5. Act Three

For all of his fears and experiences of previous relationships, Will discovered that he wasn’t as horrible at them as he had thought. Then again, maybe it was just a relationship with Hannibal that he didn’t suck at. It just seemed so much easier than it had been with any of his previous lovers. He wasn’t really sure why. Will certainly hadn’t changed himself or any of his behaviours but, instead of being frustrated - as others had been - Hannibal seemed charmed. He didn’t care that Will had a whole pack of dogs. That Will preferred to spend time by himself when he wasn’t in rehearsals. That Will wasn’t functional in the morning until he had drunk at least half a pot of coffee. He accepted Will as he was; sassy, grumpy and sarcastic as fuck.

Will had been worried that, working together and attempting a relationship as well would be too much, that they would end up sick of each other pretty damn quickly. But, it hadn’t happened as of yet. It helped that they didn’t spend every single second together when they weren’t in the studio. Will still had his dogs to look after and Hannibal wasn’t overly fond of the pack, as Will referred to them. Abby looked after them on the nights that Will stayed with Hannibal, but otherwise Will returned to his own home every night. It didn’t seem to matter that, in many ways, they were like chalk and cheese. While Will liked spending his downtime quietly with his dogs going on long walks and fishing, by contrast Hannibal was a social animal. He liked surrounding himself with people, going out to galleries and the theatre. To Will's amusement, considering that Hannibal seemed to live in a series of increasingly battered sportswear when he was in the rehearsal room, when he went out he selected his clothes from an extensive collection of exquisitely cut three piece suits, some of them flashy almost to the point of obscenity.

Hannibal was also becoming notorious for throwing dinner parties for the company. Garnering an invitation to dine at Hannibal’s was becoming the most sought-after request. Having eaten Hannibal’s cooking, Will wasn’t exactly surprised; he’d never tasted anything like it and, if he didn’t know better, he would say that Hannibal was a professional chef, not a dancer. Will had a standing invitation to dinner - as did Bev, Margot and Abby - but he had yet to take Hannibal up on it. After all, spending time with Bedelia and Anthony Dimmond outside the studio was hardly an enticing prospect. Besides, why would Will put himself through the torture of having to be sociable, when Hannibal would bring him the leftovers every day without fail? Then again, if Anthony continued making eyes at Hannibal, then Will was going to be forced to make an appearance, just so that Anthony understood once and for all that Hannibal was very much taken. That was a whole other can of worms though.

There was also the sex, which was both frequent and fantastic. Will had had similar fears about the sexual component of a relationship as he had been about a relationship as well. It wasn’t as though he disliked sex; he just worried that he was bad at sex. Certainly, the sex that he had had with previous partners had been okay but not amazing. There definitely hadn’t been any mind-blowing orgasms. Not like there were with Hannibal. Will had never shied away from sex in his previous relationships, but he had never been able to enjoy it as fully as he wanted to. Considering that Will was a dancer – and a world-class one at that – he struggled with sex. Not in how to do it - he was perfectly aware of the mechanics – but in being hyper-aware of his body and his own self-consciousness. He just never felt comfortable or relaxed enough to let go and just enjoy himself. Until Hannibal. There was something about him that set Will at ease. That allowed him to lose his inhibitions and actually enjoy sex. And they were definitely enjoying sex. Hannibal had this way of pleasuring – worshipping – Will until he was boneless with pleasure. They had christened everywhere in both of their homes and, courtesy of Hannibal’s masterful skills of persuasion, a changing room and their usual small studio at the rehearsal venue. Will had no doubt that they would end up doing the deed in as many places as Hannibal could convince him to as soon as they moved into the theatre.

So, the sex was fantastic. The food was almost better than the sex and Will was actually happy in a relationship as well as his professional career, possibly the most incredible thing of all.

There was just one big problem. The elephant in the room. The thing that Will tried not to think about too much but couldn’t avoid completely. What happened to this thing - this relationship - with Hannibal when the production run finished? Will was still officially contracted to Jack’s company an 80% of Hannibal’s work was in Europe. The prospect of a long-distance relationship was hardly an enticing one and, besides, who said that Hannibal even wanted anything beyond the production run when it ended. Will knew of a considerable number of dancers who managed to make long-distance relationships work thanks to the technological wonders of Skype and FaceTime. However, Will did not think he would be one of those success stories. It was a bloody miracle he was doing okay with a relationship in person, adding technology and distance into the equation was just asking for trouble.

Yet, for all Will's pessimism, it was hard to believe that Hannibal’s interest would end with the production run though. They hadn’t gone as far as actually saying ‘I love you’ but Will didn’t think that there was any doubt about how either of them felt. He knew that he’d never fallen for anyone like he had fallen for Hannibal. He was pretty certain that he never would again. Which at least meant that, when this whole thing inevitably ended - as a large part of Will expected, Will would be spared the total and utter humiliation of everyone knowing and either being falsely sympathetic or knowing it would happen, or both.

That wasn’t to say that they were keeping things quiet out of embarrassment or anything like that. It was more that they wanted to keep things private; they didn’t want their whole relationship to become the property of the company. Neither did they want news to slip out and become fodder for the ballet gossip sites - trash such as that run by Freddie Lounds - and for speculation to take over and or become synonymous with the production; if it wasn’t successful, then undoubtedly there would be those - Freddie - to claim that it was because the leads were more interested in sex and each other than the steps.

There were those who knew of course - Mischa, Bev, Margot and Abby - and neither Will nor Hannibal begrudged them that knowledge. Will was a little concerned that they were maybe a little too invested; Abby had let slip a comment suggesting that they had a group chat dedicated to Will and Hannibal’s relationship. While it was a little creepy, Will couldn’t deny that their approval meant a lot. He still could have done without knowledge of that chat group, however.

Basically, all it boiled down to was the fact that, for the time being, Will was embroiled in a relationship that was the epitome of domestic bliss. It was the kind of relationship that celebrities sold photos of to trashy magazines. At least, it was when they were staying at Hannibal’s rental. No-one would want to buy photos of Will’s place with its plaid throws covered in dog hair. Will and Hannibal may be like chalk and cheese in their interests when it wasn’t to do with dance, but they both wanted exactly the same things from a relationship. Someone who understood their world, the life that they had chosen. Someone independent who was happy to occupy their own space, to take time to themselves and not live in each other’s pockets. They wanted someone to cuddle with on the couch in an evening, someone to converse with and someone to make love to.

That was what they had found, and Will intended to hold onto it with both hands for as long as he possibly could. 

~*~

One thing became very apparent to Will as opening night loomed ever closer and that was the fact that, despite the certitude that both the dancing and his burgeoning relationship with Hannibal were both pretty much perfect, Will's mental health was anything but. It wasn't solely to do with the ballet, but it was certainly influenced by it.

Will had never been supremely confident in his abilities, never one of those egotistical principals where critiques rolled over them like water off a duck's back. Neither was he one of those dancers who lived in fear of the critic’s reviews. Will always wanted to dance to the best of his abilities for the other dancers around him. He'd always had more empathy than the average person; it was part of what made him such a good partner. However, it also made other aspects of his life more vivid and hard to deal with. So, the closer they got to opening night, the more stressed Will got.

There was a lot resting on this performance for all of them. The production had been both a little scandalous and controversial when it had first been performed. An all-male version of Swan Lake had never been conceived, let alone successfully brought to fruition. Everyone had said that Jimmy and Brian were crazy for leaving Jack's company and taking such a gamble. That Irene Komeda had more money than sense for backing them and that they were crazy in choosing Francis Dolarhyde as their Swan. Their doubters had all been forced to retract their comments when it became both a commercial and critical success. Now, there was a weight of expectation. Could they pull it off a second time?

Jimmy and Brian had had a handful of successful productions since that first Swan Lake and they needed to prove not only that they hadn't made a bad decision in reviving it, but also that Jimmy's choice to 'make it gayer' in his words, hadn't been a misstep. Hannibal had to prove that he was capable of stepping into and filling Dolarhyde's shoes, something that Will had no doubt of. As for Will, he had to prove that he wasn't just another male soloist. That he was capable of more than a few tricks and being a leaning post for his ballerina. They all had to prove that the hype and the buzz surrounding the production lived up to the real thing. It was a lot of pressure and there was no wonder that Will was nervous.

The only thing was, Will's nerves were manifesting in the strangest of ways. Mostly in the form of nightmares, although they were nothing like any nightmare that Will had ever had before. Will had never been the most solid sleeper but this was ridiculous. He couldn't sleep through the night without having at least one, sweating through his shirt and soaking the sheets, jerking awake and sitting bolt upright panting for breath.

Swans and oh so many feathers. It felt like the whole of his dream world was made of feathers. Not merely the traditional white swan feathers but black ones as well. Like the tutu the ballerina portraying Odile would wear in Act 3. The type of black that had a blue/green sheen to it. All interspersed with the white feathers. Hundreds, thousands, millions of them. So many that he felt as though he were choking on them. Suffocating. Those were the dreams that woke him up.

And then there were the other type of dreams.

The ones where beautiful swan men climbed out from underneath his bed - sometimes from out of the bed itself - to seduce him. Despite the swan man’s amorous intentions, there was somehow a sense of menace that lingered and left Will unsettled when he woke. Sometimes the swan man had Hannibal’s face, sometimes his face was blank. In truth, he wasn’t sure which he found more disconcerting. Both certainly left him feeling disorientated when he awoke. On a particularly bad night, one where the swan man had Hannibal’s face, it was all he could do to not flinch away from his lover.

What he didn't understand was why this was happening now, why this production had precipitated them. It was hardly the first time that Will had done Swan Lake, nor the first time that he had taken the role of the Prince, whether he be called that or Siegfried. So, why was it now that Will was having such vivid dreams? Nightmares? Which were they? What was it about this production that resonated with him so much?

All Will could hope for was that his mind calmed down soon because otherwise he wasn't going to make it to opening night. 

~*~

Will wasn’t really sure where he was going, just that he had to keep moving. It was as though he was disassociating, not really in his body or aware of what was going on.

“Will? Is that you?”

The words slowly started to penetrate the fog surrounding Will. There was a woman speaking. Who was she though? Did she sound worried? Why would some strange woman be worried about him?

“Will. WILL!”

Will gave a start as hands grabbed onto him and gave him a slight shake. He blinked several times and gave his head a shake, the world around him slowly coming into focus. He definitely wasn’t at home anymore. But where was he? He forced himself to focus, recognising things as he did so. He was at the theatre, at Jack’s. How the hell had he got here? The last thing that he remembered was going to bed at home, Buster sneaking onto the bed and curling around Will’s feet.

“Will? Are you with me?”

And then he realised that Alana was stood at his side, looking concerned. Alana? What was she doing here? Where was he? Jack’s? The sun was shining and … what time was it?

“Alana?”

“Will, are you okay? I called out to you several times, but you didn’t respond. What are you doing here? I thought you were rehearsing at the studio across town. Where are your shoes?”

“We are. Rehearsing, I mean. I … I don’t know how I got here. Or where my shoes are.”

Will concentrated on his feet to avoid looking at Alana’s face; he knew exactly what it would look like. His feet were bare. He hadn’t put shoes on, and they were cut and bruised, covered in dirt. Shit. Jimmy was going to have a fit; how was he supposed to dance on them? As if it wasn’t bad enough that he was having strange dreams of swans and feathers that had him sweating through his shirts and the bedding, now he was sleepwalking as well.

And not just your usual sleepwalking around his place. This was extreme sleepwalking. How had he managed to get here without someone else stopping him, checking that he was okay? Why hadn’t one of the dogs woken him up? Had they tried and Will just hadn’t noticed? Was this the first time it had happened? Hannibal hadn’t mentioned anything but, then again, they didn’t spend every single evening together.

Why couldn’t life be easy?

“Are you supposed to be in rehearsal this morning?”

“Huh?” Will looked up when Alana shook his shoulder.

“Will, are you supposed to be in rehearsals this morning? Are they going to be expecting you at the studio? Is there someone I can call? Or I can take you to the hospital…” the reluctance in Alana’s voice with the last statement was audible.

Will forced himself to focus, thinking about the schedule. He hadn’t stayed at Hannibal’s last night. Or had he? Was that the reason the dogs hadn’t woken him – because they hadn’t been there? And then he remembered. He hadn’t slept at Hannibal’s the previous evening because they were starting the day with rehearsals for Act 1, so Hannibal wasn’t needed until lunch time and Will was trying not to get too dependent on Hannibal. Trying not to get too used to having him around. Was it best for Will to go to the studio? Given how prominent a role he played in Act 1, they were definitely going to be expecting him and there was going to be no way to hide what had happened. He couldn’t go to the hospital; they would probably call a psych consult and not let him back out.

“What time is it?”

“Nearly nine am.”

Okay, so it wasn’t as bad as it could be. Will wasn’t late for rehearsals so, in all probability, no-one would have noticed his absence. However, there was no way that he was in a fit state to get to the studio by himself. And he didn’t want to worry Hannibal unduly. He wasn’t going to call Abby, Bev would go all mama bear on him and he definitely wasn’t going to call Mischa because she would undoubtedly rat him out to Hannibal. That left one option. He was pretty certain that she could be relied upon to remain calm and not overreact. He couldn’t believe that he was thinking this, but he was grateful to Bev for adding him to that group chat.

“Can you call Margot? I think her number is in my phone?”

“Of course, I can.” Alana took the phone and Will tuned out as he heard her start to speak.

Once she had returned his phone, Will was aware that Alana was still talking to him, but he wasn’t in any fit state to really listen to her. Instead, he focused on his breathing and took small comfort in the sound of the familiar voice. Had he been completely aware of what was going on, Will would undoubtedly be far more uncomfortable than he already did. He and Alana hadn’t exactly been on the best of terms since their kiss, but they had muddled through and made it work. He had the feeling that he felt more awkward about it than Alana did; she had seemed interested several times before they had actually kissed. Had they not been partners, Will may have pursued something but, even then, he had never felt comfortable dating partners. Now, Will was in a relationship with a man. And not just any man but Hannibal Lecter.

He was fully aware of his hypocrisy. That having always said he wouldn’t date his partner, he was not only doing that but with his male partner as well. Hannibal. Oh god, what was Hannibal going to say about all of this? Will had, somehow, managed to downplay the dreams that he had been having but that wasn’t exactly going to work now, was it? How was he going to hide this? Did he want to hide this? Was Hannibal going to change his mind about dating Will when he found about this? He hadn’t exactly signed up to date a basket case, after all. And that stray thought sent Will spiralling in his thoughts, his breathing coming faster and faster.

“Will!”

Will had barely processed hearing the cry before Margot was throwing her arms around him. The contact grounded him, and he allowed himself to sink into her embrace. He may only have known her since the production run had started, but he felt comfortable with her. There was a connection there, a silent understanding but none of the history with Alana.

“Breathe with me, Will. That’s it. In and out. Nice and slowly.”

Will did as instructed, feeling his breath slowly start to return to normal. As if he was still fighting through a fog, he heard Margot introduce herself to Alana and ask what had happened. Through all of it, Margot’s arms remained tightly wrapped around him, one hand slowly carding through his hair.

Will still wasn’t completely with it, disoriented from the experience of sleepwalking and terrified about what all of this meant, but he could see that there was something between his two friends. There was something in the way that Alana and Margot were looking at him that told him maybe Margot wasn’t going to be all that upset about Bev’s interest in Mischa.

Maybe, when he had got passed this and was feeling more like himself, he could do some matchmaking of his own. But then Margot was ushering him into a cab and sliding in next to him, taking hold of his hand and anchoring him somewhat as she barked instructions at the driver. 

As they sped off, he could have sworn that he saw a lurking flash of red, a very distinctive red. But, it was only for a split second and he still wasn't totally with it. Maybe he was imagining it. After all, what would Freddie Lounds be doing there at that time in the morning?

(~*~)

Will should have known that Margot wouldn’t keep her mouth shut and not called Hannibal. Even his threat to keep Alana’s number from her had done no good whatsoever. She had simply smirked and responded that she had Alana’s number already, that Alana had given it to her at Margot's request while they waited for the cab. She had also remarked that his threats would be more effective if he didn't look like a particularly pathetic puppy.

In the end, Hannibal arrived at the studio mere minutes after they did, dressed in his usual sportswear, hair flopping in his eyes and looking the most frazzled that Will had ever seen him. In fact, there was a whole welcome party waiting for them. Jimmy and Brian were there, along with a worried looking Bev and Abby. There was also a man there that Will didn't recognise. Will had barely managed to get the cab door open before Hannibal was there, running worried hands over Will's face and pressing a multitude of little kisses over his face, muttering away in a mix of Lithuanian, English and several other languages that Will didn't completely recognise. 

When he finally pulled back enough to let Will out of the car, Will only managed to touch his foot to the tarmac before he hissed in pain. That was it, Hannibal had swept him up in a bridal lift and was carrying him inside. Will simply wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s neck and buried his face in that familiar chest, trying to block out the shocked gasps when the others caught sight of his feet.

At Jimmy's direction, they went in an opposite direction to the main studio where class and rehearsals would take place. Brian broke away at that point, ostensibly to take charge of both although Bev and Abby both hovered anxiously, rather than following him, despite his pointed glances and exorbitant throat clearing. Will did his best to give them a reassuring smile but, judging from the way Abby shook even harder, he had the feeling that it came out as more of a grimace.

"I'll be okay, I promise. Just go dance and we'll let you know what's going on."

Neither looked convinced, but Abby let Bev tug her towards the door. When they got to the door, Bev turned and stabbed a threatening finger in Will's direction, "you'd better keep your promise or I'm totally going to kick your ads when you're looking less like a kicked puppy."

Will gave a somewhat wet laugh at that, and didn't miss the way that Hannibal's arms tightened around him. The room was clearly set up as a doctor’s office, all white and sterile, for all that it was essentially a cupboard. There was an examination couch set up along one side and Hannibal made for that, setting Will down on it and staying close when Will clung to him, unable to stop himself. As soon as the door was closed behind them leaving them in privacy, Jimmy and the strange man were stepping forward.

"Will, this is Dr Abel Gideon. He's a doctor that we've had on retainer before for our productions. He's going to check you over and make sure that there isn't anything too serious. You won't be taken to hospital unless it's absolutely necessary. Okay?"

Will nodded and watched, a little warily, as the other man stepped forward. "Hi, Will. Is it okay if I call you Will? As Jimmy said, I'm Abel Gideon and I'm a doctor; you can call me whatever you want. Now, what I need for you to do is tell me what hurts the most and what happened, as much as you can.”

“I … I’m not sure what happened.” Oh but Will hated how that made him sound.

“Then let’s start with the easy question. What hurts the most?”

Well, Will could answer that question at least. “My feet.”

“Right, let’s start there then.” Gideon pulled on a pair of gloves and started to examine Will’s feet, palpating them gently, manoeuvring them back and forth, asking Will where they hurt the most and using a pair of tweezers to extract bits of gravel and twigs. As he worked, his hands deft and gentle, he managed to coax Will into revealing that he had been sleepwalking barefoot. That Will wasn’t completely sure how he had ended up at Jack’s theatre. That Will had been suffering from nightmares for a couple of weeks now and they were just getting worse, not better. 

This was what Will hadn’t wanted to admit to in front of Hannibal - and certainly not in front of Jimmy - hadn’t wanted to appear as though he were crazy. To give him credit, Hannibal didn’t run away screaming, but he did tense up behind Will while he couldn’t even look in Jimmy’s direction. Jimmy had hand-picked Will. He could have chosen any male principal in the country, but he had picked Will for some unknown reason. Was he regretting his decision now? When Gideon was satisfied, he slathered Will’s feet in antiseptic cream and bandaged them in gauze.

“I’m well-aware of how you dancers treat your bodies and I won’t deign to tell you what to do. You know your body best and I am well aware that you will push yourself back before you’re completely ready. However, I do insist that you take the rest of the day off. Take some painkillers and let your body rest. After that, it’s up to you when you return to dancing.” Gideon pulled the gloves off with a snap and got to his feet, “I’m not going to force you to talk to a professional about your nightmare, but I do suggest that you talk to your partner at least. Irrespective of when you come back to dancing, I want to see you in three days’ time to check that they’re actually healing and, if you’re still sleeping badly then, I want you to tell me so that I can prescribe something. If you need anything else in the meantime, Jimmy has my number.”

“Thank you.” Will studiously looked at his bandaged feet, secure in the safety of Hannibal’s arms around him, until he heard the click of the door shutting and then Jimmy’s voice, his hand hovering above Will’s arm before touching him gently.

“Will? It’s okay. This changes nothing. You have the full support of myself, Brian and the company. We will do everything that we can to help you. Hannibal’s going to take you home now and I don’t want to see you back here until you feel ready. Okay?” 

Will merely nodded, beyond grateful for Jimmy’s words but incapable of responding to them. Instead, he just surrendered himself to Hannibal’s embrace, aware that there was a conversation going on that involved him but not really paying attention to precisely was being said. He just trusted in Hannibal to look after him.

~*~

As Will had expected, Hannibal looked after him to the point of doting.

He couldn’t remember anyone ever looking after him like this, not even when he was a child. Hannibal had carried him from the medical couch to the cab and then from the cab into Hannibal’s penthouse where he had ensconced Will on the couch. From that point, he hadn’t allowed Will to do anything. If he wanted a drink or food then Hannibal brought it to him, if he was bored then Hannibal entertained him. Mostly, Will dozed with Hannibal lounging behind him on the couch, arms wrapped tightly around him as some instrumental music played in the background, Bach perhaps?

After a light lunch of homemade chicken soup, Will talked. Reluctantly at first, but it got easier the more that he spoke. He relayed everything to Hannibal, in detail. He detailed the dreams, the nightmares. The night sweats. The sleepwalking. How he wasn’t sure how far the sleepwalking extended. At the end, when he had finished talking, he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. Hannibal hadn’t moved, had simply listened with his arms wrapped around Will but, neither had he reacted at all.

“My poor love. Why did you keep this to yourself? Why did you not tell me?”

Will shrugged, his eyes darting all over the place, as he refused to make eye contact with Hannibal.

“Will, mylimasis, please. Look at me.”

Will did so, reluctantly. What he wasn’t expecting was for Hannibal to cup his cheeks in his palms, dotting a multitude of butterfly kisses over Will’s face.

“This does not change anything. I wish you had told me, but a part of me can understand why you didn’t want to. Do not fret. The sleepwalking is, admittedly, a little concerning but can be dealt with.

Dr Gideon was willing to help, and you can stay here so that something like today doesn’t happen again. We can find solutions to all of those things.” 

Will gave a somewhat wet laugh, “I wish I had your confidence." 

“And that is why you have me. We shall deal with this together. All will be well, beloved. That, I promise you.”

“Yeah?”

“Indeed.” Hannibal tilted his head and pressed a gentle, almost reverential kiss, to Will’s lips. “Message Bev. Your phone hasn’t stopped buzzing all afternoon and they are undoubtedly worried about you. Tell them to come over for dinner after rehearsals.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Is there anything that you would like to request?”

“Jambalaya?” Will loved all of the (often) predominantly European dishes that Hannibal cooked, but tonight he was craving familiar comfort food.

“Your wish is my command.” 

(~*~)

His mind put to rest by his confessional conversation with Hannibal – at least temporarily – Will spent the afternoon on the couch, dozing on and off, lulled by the sound of quiet classical music with Hannibal humming along and the familiar smells of jambalaya cooking.

He awoke from a nap that he didn’t remember falling into by Hannibal gently moving him so that he could slide behind him on the couch, enveloping Will in his embrace. Will roused himself just enough that he could reciprocate the embrace when Abby threw himself at him. He spent a couple of minutes soothing her and reassuring her that he was alright, that he would be able to dance in a couple of days. As he did so, he noticed that it wasn’t merely the girls that had joined them as he had expected.

“Not that it isn’t nice to see you all but why are you all here? Jimmy? Brian?”

“We have some bad news for you, Will.” Bev held out her phone for Will to read, the screen showing an instantly recognisable website. “Nick found it an hour or so ago; he gave Abby the heads up.”

“Whatever you want to do, Will, the company will back you. If you want to go to the police, I’ll drive you there myself. We will support you one hundred percent. I don’t regret my decision casting you.”

Jimmy’s words did nothing to mollify Will. If anything, they increased his concern. Neither did the rather wild look in Brian’s eyes or his expletive-ridden muttering. Looking down, he felt cold as he read the title, there in stark black and white for any number of people to see.

_'Will Graham; going method or simply crazy?’_

He barely read the next section but read enough to get the gist; Freddie Lounds had been there that morning and, contrary to the headline, hadn’t wasted any time in speculating that Will was potentially having a mental breakdown, much like his character. Will’s ears were filled with white noise. He had no doubt that his friends and colleagues were talking to him. Hell, he could feel Hannibal’s chest moving beneath his ear, but he couldn’t concentrate on anything but the rush of fear and anger that was threatening to overwhelm him. This was a disaster. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

Will threw the phone to the other end of the sofa and buried his face in Hannibal’s chest and screamed out of sheer frustration.


End file.
